


Slippage

by lferion



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Afterlife, Bingo, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Crackuary, Double Drabble, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Implied Fingon | Findekáno/Maedhros | Maitimo, Valinor, re-embodiment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:27:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23050027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lferion/pseuds/lferion
Summary: Fingon, recently Returned, an old head on young shoulders, is not having an easy time.
Kudos: 11
Collections: Drabbling in Middle-Earth





	Slippage

**Author's Note:**

> Written For the Silmarillion Writer's Guild February 2020 Crackuary Bingo Challenge. Fill for N-1: 13 going on 30; N-2: Rebirth and reembodiment taken to their logical extremes. [On SWG](http://www.silmarillionwritersguild.org/archive/home/viewstory.php?sid=4331)
> 
> Many thanks to Runa and Morgynleri for encouragement and sanity-checking.

It was maddening, really, not to mention frustrating. To be treated on one hand like a legend, not a person, given awed looks and begged for tales of high deeds and wonders (and the tales they wanted bore scant resemblance to the actual things they purported to recount), and on the other (he wasn't thinking of hands. He was _not_ ) like — not as if he were an infant, precisely — but as some sort of fragile, incapable, unreliable or untrusted thing, a youth no older than the thirteen coronar he had been Returned, not someone who had lived near three thousand in that first life, managing any number of things now unthinkable hardship if not entirely unknown, by people who had not been alive at all when one died. Perhaps when this hroa was a hundred thirty years of the Sun, the nonsense might be forgotten, but it seemed depressingly unlikely at present, surrounded by persons little older than that, behaving as if they were 30 yeni instead. He would rather endure the Ice again, some days.

And none of it was helped by being wrapped around a core of aching, scoured, scorched, scalded emptiness where once one’s heart had been.


End file.
